


Want and Need

by Lulzy (likelolwhat)



Series: looking for heaven (found the devil in me) [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (Minor) References to Ace Discourse, Demisexual Inquisitor, Demisexuality, F/M, People? Had Lives? Before the Conclave?, Pre-Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Supportive Sera, demisexual Cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelolwhat/pseuds/Lulzy
Summary: Nothing would happen, not in that way.Because he wasn’t certain. Irene had never been certain, either.





	Want and Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Dragon Age Aspec Week on Tumblr](https://dragonageaspecweek.tumblr.com/).

Irene wanted to strangle that scout.

She knew it was him; it had to have been him. Cullen wouldn’t have told anyone — Maker, the man was nervous enough about having such a conversation without the entirety of Skyhold knowing about it too — and she had better things to do than rave about a relationship that didn’t even exist. Couldn’t exist, not in the conventional sense.

But here they were, these rumors. Dorian smiling just that tiny bit wider, nudging her with his elbow and feigning innocent when she interrogated him. Vivienne raising one perfect eyebrow and wishing her well in so many words, so vaguely that she didn’t even realize it was odd until later. Varric snickering into his glove. Something that they all knew about, or thought they knew about, and she hadn’t the slightest clue what until Blackwall, of all people, came out and said he was happy for her. _Happy_.

The worst part was that none of it was true. They hadn’t kissed, hadn’t even held hands or stood less than two paces apart. Hearing the extent of the rumors — Blackwall took pity on her when she asked — was mortifying. Cullen had thought about kissing her, this was true enough. She had asked him whether he wanted to, prepared for the inevitable discussion about _want_ and _desire_.

He admitted he wasn’t certain.

She’d been shocked into a laugh, and that was when the Maker-damned scout showed up. The hurt that had flashed over Cullen’s face at her reaction was channeled into irritation by the time the Commander turned around, and doubtlessly the scout had misinterpreted. Never mind that nothing had happened. Nothing would happen, not in that way.

Because he wasn’t certain. Irene had never been certain, either. Her husband had understood, bless his soul, and was willing to wait however long it took for her love to segue into want. Desire. Maybe someday it would have been easier, but then the Conclave blew and all hope of someday went with it. Her bones still ached. She was even less certain here; she knew there was something with Cullen but whether it was friendship or love or both was beyond her. She wanted to say all these things and more on the battlements, but Cullen had made his excuses before she could, and she, foolish brute, had let him walk away.

She stood outside the Herald’s Rest, listening to the raucous noise rattling the walls from within. There wasn’t anything to celebrate tonight as far as she was aware, except maybe their continued survival, but it certainly sounded like someone — probably the Iron Bull — had dragged out a cask and the majority of Skyhold was getting drunk. The Qunari’s laugh boomed above the others, and she wanted little more than to yank open that door and join them.

“Hey, broody britches! What’re you doing down there in the snow?” Irene recognized Sera’s voice immediately but it took a moment for her to find the rogue in the darkness. She leaned out of the window of her little alcove, waving down at Irene. “Come on in!”

“Can’t, Sera,” she called back, and took one last longing glance at the tavern door.

Sera slapped a hand to her forehead. “Aww, piss. Forgot. Hold on.” She withdrew from sight for a moment, and when she reappeared she was wearing a padded coat for the Skyhold winter. The elf threw the window open wider, and, before Irene could protest, climbed out the window and dropped to the ground. “It’s all good, innit?” She squinted at Irene, frowning. “No? Come on then, I know a better place.”

Sera’s smaller hand tugged her away from the tavern, and she allowed herself to be led. She hadn’t planned on talking to anyone, except perhaps Cullen if she ever found her suddenly-fled courage, but maybe this conversation would get that courage to return, as a run-up to the bigger one. She weighed how much she wanted to reveal — her husband’s loss nearly a year behind, she still ached. It still felt like a betrayal to even think about Cullen, sometimes. He would have wanted her to, but that didn’t make it much easier.

The “better place” turned out to be the loft above the requisitions officer’s quarters, a place Irene hadn’t known was even there. The officer — and Irene couldn’t recall his name, as she had little use for his services — was gone at such a late hour, and the loft was black as pitch. She felt around blindly, finding a covered crate and carefully sitting on it. Sera lit three candles and set them around the little room. “There,” she said with a giggle. “Romantic, right?” She, for her part, leaned against the tiny window and tapped her fingers on her thigh, satisfied grin on her lips. “You can tell Cully-Wully about this place, I don’t mind.” Irene flinched at the reminder, and Sera frowned. “Or not… Look, what’s wrong, ‘cause you’re acting weird.”

Irene huffed out an awkward laugh. It wasn’t funny, but it was better than punching something like her instincts usually demanded. “I don’t even know where to start,” she said, rolling her shoulders in a vain effort to release the tension gathering there.

“Well, start at the start,” Sera retorted.

“I don’t know where that is!” She stopped herself from throwing up her hands, curling them into tight fists instead. Maybe it wasn’t that complicated. “Fine. So, you know I was married before _this_.” She relaxed her left hand, letting the green glow escape and throw more shadows on the walls, on their faces. “We had a very… well, I suppose popular opinion would call it a strange relationship. I never wanted sex with anyone. Not even the slightest bit. Even him. I loved him, I did, but he just—” She growled and tossed up her hands before burying her face in them. “He never did it for me. Until the night before the Conclave.”

Sera sucked in a breath. “Ouch. And then he _died_.”

Somehow the rogue always knew what was up, before she realized what she was trying to say herself. She peeked through her fingers, slowly lifted her head. “Yes. Then he died. I haven’t wanted anyone after. Maker, I don’t know if I even want Cullen like that. I don’t know if I actually love him or I just feel like I could love him, either.” She slumped over again, mumbling into her hands, “I’m broken, Sera.”

“Shit. No, you’re not.” The vehemence, the conviction in Sera’s voice was startling, but then the rogue was right next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and shaking her gently. “You’re just got different needs than the rest of us, is all. Doesn’t everybody? Like me. I need ladybits. Dorian needs lordbits. Bull’ll take anybits. You? Maybe you don’t need bits most of the time, and only certain bits the rest of the time. Doesn’t mean you’re broken. Just— choosy? Something like that…” She trailed off, suddenly sounding very unsure.

Irene rolled her shoulders back again, the muscles at her collarbone twinging with the movement. Sera’s shaking loosened some of the knots, at least. “Thanks, Sera,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to talk to Cullen, though. He kept looking at my mouth, on the battlements, and I asked him whether he wanted to kiss me. I wasn’t adverse to the idea. He said he wasn’t sure. And I thought, ‘ _What are the chances there’s someone else like me, and we happened to find each other?_ ’ I laughed at how absurd that was. I think… I think he took it the wrong way. That I laughed at him.” Guilt settled in her, a sour taste in her mouth every time she swallowed. She fucked everything up. A veritable charging bull on the streets of Val Royeaux, she was.

“I dunno if he’s like you or not, but he _likes_ you anyway. Gets all starry-eyed when your back is turned. It’s kinda cute. I think that’ll stay unless you don’t explain yourself. If you let him think you laughed at him too long, it’ll get in and you’ll never get it out. So go _talk_ to him, yeah?” Sera shook her again, a bit harder this time, and Irene very nearly moaned as another knot unwound.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah, I need to fix it.” She stood up and started for the ladder.

The rogue blinked. “What, right now? It’s the middle of the night! Won’t he be—”

Irene paused on the top rung. It had disturbed her, when she realized just how little sleep her Commander was running on, but she knew he got even less when he was anxious. All the more reason to fix it. “He’ll be awake, Sera. He always is.”

“Yeah but—”

She heard Sera sigh from above her head; she was already down the ladder and across the floor. “Thanks Sera! You’re a good friend,” she called as she yanked the door open and let a gust of snow-swirling wind inside. She didn’t mind. Made as she was for warmer climes, her blood thrummed with giddy anticipation and the cold couldn’t affect her in such a mood.

“You’re frigging right,” Sera yelled back, just before Irene slammed the door shut behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon Cullen as demisexual/heteroromantic. My Inquisitor here is demisexual/demiromantic. I myself am elsewhere on the ace spectrum, so please do let me know if I made any glaring or not-so-glaring errors.
> 
> There's a greater story here...


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